


Answer All My Prayers

by STARSdidathing



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Accidental Relationship, BAMF Loki (Marvel), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Comfort, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Feels, Fluff, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Magic, Nightmares, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Loki (Marvel), Post-Avengers (2012), Prayer, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protectiveness, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 19:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/STARSdidathing/pseuds/STARSdidathing
Summary: It was rather ironic that the first mortal to pray to Loki in centuries, was not only an enemy, but a man who had no idea what his words were doing.





	Answer All My Prayers

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to do something involving prayers for a while and I've had this idea in my notes for idk, _years_ probably. Hopefully I did the concept justice :)

It was rather ironic that the first mortal to pray to Loki in centuries, was not only an enemy, but a man who had no idea what his words were doing.

The first one could be fairly easily explained; the man was kidnapped, in fear for his life, half-broken and entirely desperate. Loki had frozen halfway across the world, unable to believe whose voice was in his head, praying and cursing at him in equal measure.

It was the tirade of a dying man; a man who knew he was soon to be finished off and was furious it couldn’t be more dignified, that he couldn’t ‘ _have gone out in a blaze of heroic glory kicking your godly ass, Loki_ ’.

It was a rambled prayer, more a monologue than the few short whispers for guidance or to be spared that Loki had heard many a century past - yet Loki had stood riveted, completely transfixed at hearing someone ask, of all the gods in the pantheon, _Loki_ for help.

Loki had acted without thinking; following the mental link all the way to Anthony Stark’s cell to find him chained, beaten, bleeding and exhausted. Loki was invisible to the mortal, but he barely glanced at him before walking through the walls of the compound to find the mortal’s armour. It took the work of moments to activate one of the tracking devices to allow the Avengers to find their lost comrade.

Loki still remained nearby, directing the man’s captors and interrogates away from Stark’s cell until his fellow heroes could reach him. Thor was, thankfully, on Asgard, allowing Loki to remain and guard Stark until he was discovered by his allies. When he was sure the man was safe, Loki disappeared from the complex entirely.

Yet, despite departing from Stark, Loki couldn’t stop himself from attaching a small spell to the man. It was imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t looking. It was a charm he hadn’t performed in hundreds of years, but he felt a surprisingly soft smile form as he let the bond of god and disciple form between them.

Should Anthony Stark ever pray to him again; Loki had made sure he would always hear it.

* * *

And the mortal did pray to him.

It was by no means frequent and seemed more of a joke to the mortal than any serious offer of fealty, but Loki found himself stopping what he was doing to listen raptly each time. 

Stark sometimes prayed to him when he was bored; his remarks usually to curse Loki or wonder what he was up to and Loki always found himself amused, listening to the mortal and chuckling.

He prayed often when he was lonely or depressed; he would sound so tired, so stripped bare of his many masks and confidence. He would confess the secrets of his head and heart; revealing that he was every inch a lost, broken man in need of guidance. It physically hurt Loki not to go to him in those moments, to try to help or sooth the man’s troubled soul.

But Loki was not so foolish as to forget how unwelcome his appearance would be to Stark. 

On rare occasions, Stark would pray to him in moments of pride and happiness; when he’d achieved some new wonder with his inventions and wished to share his triumph. Few and far between though they were, Loki cherished those moments the most.

The prayers Loki _hated_ were when Stark awoke from a nightmare.

The first time he was called after Stark experienced such a dream, Loki had gasped for breath at the amount of, _fear, panic, need, distress_ that had hit him. Stark’s prayer was full of hitched words and an attempt to distract himself from what he’d just experienced.

Loki didn’t even think before he appeared at Stark’s tower.

He’d expected to be attacked by Stark’s artificial servant or to have alarms blare as Stark’s technology sensed his presence, but nothing occurred and Loki was able to walk unhindered to Stark’s bedroom. He’d had enough sense to cloak himself so that he could not be seen, but he felt a tug to his heart when he found the mortal curled up in the corner of the room, arms around his knees.

The artificial servant, JARVIS, was attempting to calm him to little avail. Loki just stepped over to the other man and bent down just enough to be able to run a hand through his hair and feed calming magic and a spell of sleep into his body.

“Be calm, my mortal,” Loki whispered, his voice so low that not even Stark’s technology would hear it. “You are under the protection of your God.”

Stark’s brow furrowed in confusion and he made a small sound of perplexity but the magic was taking hold. It allowed the man to drift off to sleep while swiftly forgetting the half-heard promise.

While Loki truly wished he could have picked up the man and carried him to his bed, Loki knew he would not be able to hide the action from JARVIS’ eye without disrupting the tower’s cameras and thereby making Stark suspicious. He settled for shifting to stand with his back to the wall. He kept his hand in Stark’s hair, lightly playing with the strands. 

Loki remained with the mortal until the first light of the sun was entering Stark’s room. The mortal had drifted to lean slightly against Loki’s leg as the hours had passed and Loki regretted having to move away from him.

He left the mortal resting against the wall, but he did bend down and brush a light kiss against Stark’s forehead, breathing a soft blessing against him and feeling Stark sigh in his sleep.

Smiling softly, Loki disappeared from the tower and the sleeping figure of his mortal.

* * *

In the months that followed, Stark not only continued to pray to him, but Loki visited the mortal’s bedroom numerous times to sooth him after nightmares had disturbed his sleep. Loki hated to see his mortal distressed, but he craved the soft moments where he could slip into the mortal’s room, stroke his hair, sit on the edge of his mattress and remain with him throughout the night.

The mortal was unaware of his prayers being heard, he was unaware of Loki’s nightly visits. He was _unaware_ that the man he considered an enemy now considered Stark something else entirely.

Stark was a beautiful man with a genius mind who somehow found solace in praying to a man like _him_. Loki was not so foolish as to call what he felt love, but he felt affection, intrigue, possession and desire.

He wanted Stark, but Loki was well used to wanting something he could not have.

Loki had never intended to make his presence known as he hadn’t wanted to lose his connection to the man. He wanted to keep receiving the prayers he found delight in hearing, and to remain soothing the man when nightmares haunted his sleep.

But, almost a year since the first prayer had reached him, Loki’s hand was forced.

Loki had been avoiding battling the Avengers, not wishing to face Stark in combat when he knew he was incapable of hurting him, but it didn’t mean Loki wasn’t still keeping a careful eye on the other villains to make sure none would harm his mortal.

He simply hadn’t anticipated a _new_ threat would appear.

It was a woman and she had the _audacity_ to attempt to use magic on Stark’s mind. 

Loki’s fury was impossible to contain nor was he able to curb his reaction; Loki teleported into the middle of the battle. It was occurring in some underground compound but he merely grabbed her wrist, yanking it away from Stark’s head. Her eyes went wide and her pitiful, untrained and tainted power was disrupted. 

She attempted to use her powers on him, but Loki sneered and broke her wrist, making her cry out as he maintained a hold on her. His other hand went to Stark’s neck, holding him tightly and sending his magic to fight the last vestiges of her magic and remove them from his mind.

Loki only let go of the crying woman when he sensed something coming towards him. He threw up an energy shield and delighted in the fact that the person who had been coming at him in an invisible blur of speed, slammed into the field with such force as to render himself unconscious. The woman had cried out for the fallen man, her hand still cradled against her chest.

She looked up at Loki with furious, agonised eyes. “You will pay. Stark is _ours_. He is-”

“No, you little half-witch,” Loki told her, his eyes glowing with magic. “He is _mine_.” He raised his hand and curled his fingers, using magic to choke her. “And you should _die_ for touching what belongs to _me_.”

She was scraping the fingers of one hand against her throat, her broken wrist rendering the other one limp as she tried to fight against her approaching death.

Stark had been silent and unresisting against him, but he startled to struggle. “Stop, Loki! Don’t!”

Loki flicked his eyes to the mortal. Stark look horrified and afraid; fearful for the _creature_ that had tried to harm him and it made Loki hesitate as he held Stark’s gaze.

“Loki,” Stark said quietly, seeing the mage’s indecision, “please, don’t kill her.”

It wasn’t a prayer, it _wasn’t_ but it struck too close and it made Loki grit his teeth but he released his magic’s hold on the now unconscious witch, letting her drop to the ground. He turned to more fully face Stark then, the man staring at Loki with a mixture of nervousness and confusion. Loki could only run his eyes over the other man, searching for injury.

His examination was cut short by the sound of metal flying through the air. He jerked around, throwing up a new ward to stop Rogers’ shield from hitting him. He turned back to Stark once more, knowing his time was up.

Loki just used what little remained to promise Stark darkly, “If she touches you again not even your prayer will save her.”

He saw Stark such in a sharp breath, his eyes widening, but Loki let him go and teleported from the compound. He left the man to his heroics, his refusal to kill an enemy, and the realisation that Loki had heard every one of his entreaties.

* * *

Upon revealing himself and their connection, Loki didn’t expect to hear from Stark again. 

He knew, with painful certainty, that Stark would cease any and all prayers in Loki’s name. He would distance himself entirely from Loki and further despise the mage for slipping into his home and mind.

Loki had prepared for it. He’d resigned himself to never hearing another call from the mortal, never slipping into his rooms and soothing the grief and fear from his face after a nightmare. Loki accepted that his affection and interest would forever be unwanted.

And while he truly regretted losing Stark, Loki didn’t - _couldn’t_ regret protecting him.

Loki did continue to feel fury when he remembered the woman who had harmed Stark, still wanting to _destroy_ her for touching what was his, but Loki had made himself resist the urge to track her down and slaughter her where she stood. Stark had wished her to live and therefore, Loki would spare her pitiful existence. 

If it was to be the last request he would ever receive from his mortal then Loki would obey it. 

It had been a week since the revelation and Loki had spent it inside his apartment on Midgard. He did very little, merely attempting to grow accustomed to the silence. Stark had never been overly frequent with his prayers, but Loki had always been aware of the possibility of the mortal’s voice entering his mind through their connection; now, there was nothing.

Loki hated to admit how much he _missed_ Stark’s voice. How much he had come to rely on it as a source of warmth and entertainment. He even found sleep difficult; waking from dreams where he believed he heard Stark’s voice, only to move for their connection and find it as unused and quiet as always.

It was what found him attempting to read a magic text in the middle of the night. It was a few hours passed midnight and he was getting very little done. He had been reading a passage on sleeping droughts when, to his utter shock, he heard a prayer.

It was _Stark_ and Loki almost dropped the book he was so startled. He felt his heart lodge in his throat with hope even as his mind new better than to trust it. He was suspicious and wary as he focused on the mortal and it became clear in a moment why Stark was praying in his name. The mortal was drunk.

Stark was angry, confused, upset and distressed. He didn’t know what Loki was up to, he felt violated and he wanted to punch Loki. The sentiments took almost ten minutes for Loki to pick out and understand, the words so slurred, disjointed and broken up by what Loki assumed--judging on the decrease in sense--were further mouthfuls of liquor.

Loki wanted to go to him; to explain himself, to sooth and to comfort. He would even offer himself for Stark to work out his anger on, if he truly believed it would help the mortal become more accepting of him.

But Loki knew it wouldn’t.

Loki knew there was nothing he could do; no response to the man’s prayer he could give that would be accepted.

It was why, as much as it pained him, Loki did nothing but listen until the last slur had passed Stark’s lips and the man had passed out from drink. Loki dragged in a deep breath before letting it out slowly in an attempt to remove the tension from his shoulders and the frustration from his jaw.

He ignored his regret and his longing as he turned back to the passage on sleeping draughts and what he would need to create one. Loki had a feeling they would prove necessary for him over the coming long and silent years.

* * *

Loki didn’t hear another prayer for six months.

He knew the mortal must still have nightmares. He would also have worries, loneliness, depression, excitement, happiness and boredom - only, now he refused to share any of it with Loki.

Loki knew he should not have become so attached to the mortal, so reliant on the other man’s voice - but he couldn’t erase the past nor the choices of his heart. Loki could merely spend his time off-world causing mischief and mayhem as he attempted distraction. He could also return to the quiet of his rooms and study his magic texts, practice with his seidr and, when the silence ate at him too much, Loki would heavily ward his house and take a sleeping drought to gain some rest.

He also, in his weaker moments, checked on Stark through their connection; making sure he was uninjured and happy. He often wasn’t either, but Loki cherished the few times he found the man laughing with his friends or alight with passion and creation in his workshop. 

His brief glimpses weren’t enough, but they would have to suffice.

Loki had never imagined another communication from the other man beyond the rare drunken mistake - but he was wrong.

Loki had been making himself some herbal tea one evening, hoping it would help clear his mind and allow him to work on a new spell when he heard Stark’s voice in his head.

_Loki, if you can hear this, I want to talk to you, in person._

The voice was firm and clear-headed; no hint of alcohol, fear or coercion and that alone made Loki tense and distrustful. It also made him _yearn_ to accept, but Loki was not alive through being foolish. He couldn’t bring himself to deny the man outright, but Loki sent out his magic to survey Stark and the area around him.

The mortal was in his tower, alone but for Banner on a lower floor. There didn’t seem to be any ambush waiting and while Loki knew it could still be a trap--and while a part of him was hissing that Stark was an enemy merely waiting to betray him and utilise any hint of weakness--he still found himself summoning his armour and teleporting to the mortal’s tower.

His arrival found them an almost identical distance apart from when he had taken over the man’s home all those years ago. Stark was tense. He was wearing a simple shirt and jeans with an armoured gauntlet on one hand while the other held a glass of alcohol.

There was no one else around, and the reason became apparent when Stark remarked flatly, “Thor says you won’t ever hurt me, that you’ve claimed me as a disciple. That true?”

Loki didn’t quite grimace, not liking the idea that Stark had spoken to Thor, that he knew _everything_ about what that entailed between them, specifically; mutual devotion, protection and reverence.

He still knew there was little point in denying it. Stark might have called him here to ask that Loki shatter their connection, but lying in order to keep it would do him little favours. It would insult his mortal’s intelligence and only further gain Stark’s ire. It was why Loki gave a soft sigh and a small nod of confirmation.

Stark just watched him as if he was trying to puzzle Loki out. “You helped me, after my nightmares?”

Loki hesitated, but again, he gave another wary nod.

Stark let out a rough breath and took a large sip of his drink; he also started to move towards the bar. 

“I never meant to pray to you. I never thought you would _hear_ it.” Stark told him, sounding frustrated. “I mean, you know that I thought it was just bullshit I was spouting to no one, right?”

“I know,” Loki admitted quietly, trying not to let it sting to hear a truth he’d always known.

Stark just sighed and put his glass on the bar loudly, the sound echoing throughout the penthouse, but instead of adding more liquor to it. He rubbed a hand over his face. 

“Look, I can’t deny it helped. That _you_ helped in your own creepy, possessive way.” He let out another rough breath. “Thor says I can trust you. Like, _really vehemently_. He basically said, even if you decided to destroy the planet you’d make sure I was off it first.” His hand moved to his hair and he wasn’t looking at Loki as he admitted, “So, I guess, I mean, I’m saying don’t... don’t turn this connection off and maybe I’ll, you know, _call_ you. Maybe. If I really need it. Life and death or whatever.”

Loki sucked in a breath, his eyes widening with shock. He only let that incredulity blind him for a moment before he quickly agreed, keeping his voice free of any inflection, “I will happily keep the connection open.”

“Okay,” Stark murmured, still not looking at him but growing more uncomfortable by the moment. “Great. Good. That’s settled then.”

Loki itched to step closer, to sooth the mortal’s discomfort, but Loki knew he couldn’t. Loki would only be allowed near Stark if he was _asked_ to, if he was _prayed_ to. And Loki could not admit how much relief it brought him to have the _potential_ returned to him.

It rested in his breast; warm and grateful.

“If you ever have need,” Loki told the mortal softly, “call for me and I will hear it, my Stark.”

Stark jerked his head up, looking startled, likely more by the affectionate term than the words, but Loki was already disappearing and returning back to his apartment.

He felt delight spreading throughout his chest and he couldn’t stop a small smile from curving his lips.

His disciple, his mortal, his _Stark_ had chosen to keep praying to him. Loki knew it might not be the same as before or include everything he wanted, but it was enough to break the bleak, painful silence.

* * *

Stark, to Loki’s surprise, only waited two weeks before praying to him again.

He was in an Avengers meeting, he was _bored_ and apparently he had decided to try and see if he could use the time to annoy Loki. It had the opposite effect, making Loki laugh with delight as the mortal was more prone to going off on tangents and coming up with ways to exasperate _others_ than sticking to his plan to irritate the one he was talking to. The trickster within Loki was enraptured by Stark’s plans.

Loki also wished to reward his mortal, to assure Stark his words had been _heard_ and had been _listened_ to (something few others ever did, which hurt Stark more than he let on but had been explained to Loki more times than he could count in absent, heartbroken prayers). Loki sent a small device to land in Stark’s tower. It was magical in nature, but he gave Stark simple instructions on how to activate it.

Loki had used it many times in his youth before he had grown proficient at his clones. It was a projection system but more complex and sophisticated than what Stark could yet create with his inventions. Loki knew the mortal would enjoy it for both mischief and experimentation.

He was rewarded for the gift by receiving his first knowingly given, giddy, excited, half-asleep and high on adrenaline prayer from the mortal’s lab.

_Oh my god, I fucking love this thing._

It was all that was said, but Loki had felt pride burst through his chest as he checked on their connection and peered into the mortal’s lab to find him with clones of himself all over the lab. Stark was standing in the middle, laughing madly and smiling impossibly bright.

Loki was not in love, but it was in moments like that, watching his handsome, intelligent, beautiful mortal, where Loki knew he soon would be.

* * *

The prayers continued in much the same way after that, Stark would communicate with him and, knowing that the mortal was fully aware of who he was now contacting, Loki was finally able to respond in many of the ways he’d always wished to do in the past.

Some were humorous, some were helpful, others were just a desire to dote on his mortal.

When Stark worked out how much Loki would indulge him, he quickly became relentless. His favourite prayer was to ask for coffee. Loki amused himself after the first few prayers to start sending him drinks far less... _specific_ to the mortal’s tastes. 

He had laughed far too much over the rant he received when he first teleported the man cheese coffee.

Loki would not go so far as to believe they were friends. He would not even say that Stark _liked_ him, but Stark liked the benefits that came with his connection to Loki - even when they hurt Stark to admit.

The first time he deliberately called Loki to him after a nightmare, Loki had rushed to the other man’s side. He had wanted to touch but Tony had stopped him, holding up a trembling hand and hissing, “ _Don’t_.”

Loki had gritted his teeth but he had stood by the door of the man’s room, quietly telling Stark to breath, to calm down, to tell him what was wrong and to assure the mortal that he was safe.

While Stark didn’t verbally acknowledge him, Loki could feel the twisted wave of anxiety and fear. Stark had dreamt of being trapped as the arc reactor was removed. He had called Loki because he knew that Loki would never let anything happen to him.

The trust, the _certainty_ it almost bowled Loki over. He felt relief, affection and sharp, aching _want_. He made himself repress it to focus on the mortal until he was finally able to calm down. He didn’t wish to return to sleep, nor did he wish to be alone.

They eventually found themselves in the living room, Stark with coffee and Loki with tea. Loki had prompted him to explain what he’d learnt from the device Loki had given him and the mortal had grasped on to the topic gratefully.

They'd sat together, talking until the sun rose and bathed the room in a soft glow. When Loki left the man, he was going to his lab to attempt some experiments. Loki had wished him good luck and teleported away. 

He'd returned home with the simple knowledge that Stark had become Anthony, and that Loki was unable to stop himself from caring far more than he should.

* * *

The prayers, the _calls_ for Loki became more frequent after the mortal’s first nightmare. 

Whenever Anthony was lonely and wanted company, whenever he was frustrated and needed a distraction - he called for Loki, and the mage always came.

Loki adored each conversation. Watching as each meeting relaxed a little more of Anthony’s tension until he started to smile and laugh more around Loki. 

Although Loki regretted each time they needed to part, he couldn’t help but smile, knowing that his presence had brightened the mortal and inspired him to rush to his lab. Loki might only be a balm and a comfort when Anthony had no one else, but when he had never imagined he would even gain that, Loki could hardly complain.

It had been going on for months and while Loki never enjoyed seeing Anthony distressed by a nightmare, while he hated remaining at the opposite side of a room, it was an ache he would take any day over the time Anthony called to him for help - when he was in _danger_.

The Avengers had been fighting HYDRA and Loki had been keeping a weather eye on the mortal heroes. Their enemy was prone to explosions and mass civilian casualties. They also tended to focus their attention on Rogers.

Loki was always aware of when Anthony was called out in his armour. He waited impatiently for the Avengers victory and breathed a sigh of relief when he found Anthony unharmed. 

Loki was pacing his apartment; glancing out his window as the city of New York once again bore the brunt of a battle. He was hoping to see a blur of red and gold; a reminder that his mortal had everything under control.

But, he didn’t.

_Loki, please-_

The gasped words were all he needed before Loki was teleporting to Anthony’s side, his eyes wide and worried and daggers in his hands.

He found Anthony free from enemies and he only had a moment to feel puzzled before Anthony was flipping up his faceplate and speaking, “Look, I know you only give a shit about me, but there’s fifty civilian hostages and I don’t-” He glanced away and gritted his teeth. Loki could hear the tinny voices of the Avengers coming from the suit, but Anthony ignored them to look back at him, eyes wide. “We can’t save them all. Please,” Anthony swallowed. “I’m asking you to help me.”

Loki stared at Anthony for a long moment his eyes locked on hopeful brown before he softly questioned, “What would you have me do?”

The breath Anthony let out was full of relief and he quickly started rattling out information as to where the civilians were and what he wanted them to do - them, not the team, _them_. He was not organising this with his comrades, but with Loki.

And they pulled it off _flawlessly_. 

They incapacitated the HYDRA guards, stopped the explosives and they saved the lives of every civilian. When their success was further confirmed by Anthony’s AI, the mortal had turned to him, lifted up his faceplate and _smiled_ triumphant, happy and _friendly_. It made Loki smile back softly.

“Thank you, Loki,” Anthony told him, his eyes on Loki and the battlefield non-existent for all Loki was paying attention to it.

There were many things Loki could say to his mortal, but he settled for the only one he would wish to hear. “You’re welcome, Anthony.” He nodded faintly. “If you have no further need of me, I will leave you to your heroics.”

He’d turned to leave, but Anthony reached out and lightly gripped his arm, keeping him there.

“Stop by later for a drink?” He asked, sounding hopeful. “I still owe you one.”

Loki couldn’t stop his grin spreading wider as he agreed, “I will visit.”

Anthony let him go and as much as Loki wanted to remain, he made himself disappear in a swirl of magic. 

Loki knew he was still an enemy and a thorn in SHIELD’s side. Anthony would hardly be praised for his actions today. Loki could only hope that he would not be too badly chastised. He _hoped_ that not even the distaste and anger of his team would make Anthony reconsider their growing... companionship.

Loki _hoped_ that when he arrived at the tower, he would be welcomed with a drink and a smile rather than a grimace and the return of the distance Loki was trying so desperately to minimise.

* * *

It was almost midnight when Anthony called him to his tower. He looked a little worse for wear but he gave Loki a tired grin and handed him a glass of liquor. Their fingers didn’t touch but the closeness still sent a thrill through Loki.

He eyed the mortal intently. “Your teammates are unhappy.”

“They’ll get over it,” Anthony answered simply.

“Still, it had caused you problems, it has-”

“Loki, you helped me save fifty people today,” Anthony interrupted, looking at him with an expression Loki couldn’t quantify. “I don’t care what they say; I’m not going to stop talking to you.”

Loki didn’t realise how worried he was, not until something in him just _relaxed_ at hearing those words.

He still glanced away, trying to hide his pleasure at Anthony’s promise. He also tried to dismiss the situation. “I hardly helped them for selfless reasons.”

“No, you did it to help _me_.” Loki’s eyes snapped back to the other man, but Anthony was smiling faintly. “And I’m grateful for it, Loki.”

Loki wouldn’t admit to feeling flustered and it certainly didn’t show, but he did feel as if he was being _seen_ , as if it was beyond obvious that more than a prayer being answered, more than Loki doing a favour, it was Loki doing what Anthony requested because Loki simply couldn’t say _no_.

He cared, far more than he should, for Anthony’s good opinion of him.

It was why Loki swiftly changed the subject to the projector he gave Anthony rather than topics he didn’t want Anthony to look at too closely. He didn’t want Anthony to draw accurate conclusions that lost Loki his time in the man’s company.

Loki didn’t want Anthony to realise affection had turned into infatuation and love. He didn’t want Anthony to grow discomforted and stop asking for his help and his company. 

He _wanted_ , if Loki was being honest, to have Anthony recognize and _reciprocate_ his feelings, but Loki had long dismissed that as a possibility.

Loki was devoted to his mortal; it didn’t mean that Anthony would ever be willing to devote himself to Loki in return.

* * *

The calls to visit did become more frequent after Loki helped Anthony against HYDRA.

Anthony would invite him to have a drink, a conversation and even show Loki his experiments with the projector. He let Loki into his _lab_ , somewhere that Loki had never imagined he would be allowed to visit, but Anthony wanted to show his experimentations and Loki was loathe to refuse time in the most important and personal room in the man’s tower.

Loki liked to believe Anthony had grown fond of him, perhaps even considered them _friends_. Anthony was relaxed, cheerful and happy in his presence. Loki could only feel fortunate and thrilled. He could only wait avidly for the next request to visit and spend time with the mortal.

He could only _flinch_ when he felt a call that was so unexpected after months of calm evenings. He woke from his own sleep to hear Anthony calling for him after a nightmare.

Loki didn’t even bother to change. He teleported directly into the other man’s room, knowing his hair was in tangles and his clothing was rumpled. He was alert due to centuries of training making him ready to act and attack at a moment’s notice - but he didn’t need to attack. 

Anthony looked wide eyed and terrified with his knees drawn up to his chest, and perhaps it was because Loki was still waking up and unable to curb his desire, or maybe there was something about Anthony that made Loki know he would be accepted - but one way or another, he sat on the edge of the mortal’s bed and gently placed a hand on Anthony’s arm.

“I am here,” Loki whispered, “and I will not let _anything_ harm you.”

His vow rested heavy in the air for a moment before, to Loki’s shock, Anthony uncurled his arms from his knees and leant forward. He pressed his forehead to Loki’s shoulder and grabbed Loki’s shirt in his fists. He let out a shaky breath and Loki brought up his hands on instinct, placing them on Anthony’s back and rubbing soothing circles as he murmured calming words, his face turned towards Anthony’s head.

Anthony just shuddered against him, he even moved slightly closer, his hands going around Loki's back as he burrowed into Loki’s warmth and protection while Loki continued to whisper words of comfort and safety. 

Loki didn’t know how long they stayed there, but he _did_ notice when Anthony’s body relaxed and his breathing calmed. He also felt the way Anthony’s hands lost their grip on him as the mortal began to drift back to sleep. It made Loki smile gently and very lightly brush a kiss to the top of his mortal’s head.

He made himself rearrange Anthony back onto his bed, using a little magic to allow Anthony to sleep through the rest of the night without disruption or fear. He then hesitated for a moment before bending down and brushing a soft kiss over Anthony’s forehead. 

It was more affection than blessing, but he still whispered, “Rest well, my Anthony. I will keep you safe.”

Loki also stayed sitting on the bed until the sun started to rise and Anthony begun to stir. He’d slipped Anthony’s hand into his own during the night; cupping the mortal’s palm and brushing his fingers over skin; learning every crevice and callous while the engineer slept.

He waited until Anthony blinked open his eyes, blearily noticing Loki and making the mage smile at him before he faded from the room. 

Loki was certain it was his imagination but for a moment, he swore that he felt Anthony squeezing his hand and smiling at him before Loki reappeared back in his home.

As it was, Loki made himself tea with a smile on his face, the feeling of Anthony’s hand in his own and the mortal’s arms wrapped around him in a hug were not something that was going to fade from his mind quickly.

The situation might not have been ideal and he may hate seeing Anthony distressed, but he would still horde his chances to comfort and touch Anthony, no matter how infrequently they might be.

* * *

Nothing else was said about it, but Anthony seemed neither ashamed nor unhappy about what had occurred. He still called Loki to visit, still grinned at him and bumped their shoulders together; it was as if their actions that evening had never occurred, and Loki followed along accordingly.

He pretended he had not held Anthony in his arms, and he pretended not to crave the touch again and under happier circumstances.

Loki instead focused on what they did share; his visits to the tower were now at least four times a week and allowed him to spend hours in Anthony’s company, just the two of them. 

They spoke over drinks in the mortal’s penthouse, they discussed his inventions, Loki’s magic and the Nine Realms and, if Loki was particularly lucky, Anthony invited him down to the lab to _show_ Loki his inventions and his attempts to emulate the projector.

It made Loki feel... happy. It wasn’t the relationship of God and disciple, it wasn’t that of enemies or lovers, but it _was_ something that made him feel as if Anthony was fond of him. They were friends, of a sort, with the additional connection Anthony’s prayers formed.

It was not a relationship Loki could easily define or describe, but it made him happy, and precious things did that for the mage.

It was why when Loki heard a giddy prayer full of excitement and half-started sentences that Loki instantly appeared in Anthony’s lab. The mortal saw him and _brightened_ , his whole face lit up and he continued to rattle off the words only now in person: how he had managed to emulate the projector and how it was all thanks to _Loki_.

Loki had smiled and laughed. He’d started to speak, to say it was Anthony’s genius that had created the feat, not _him_ , but before Loki could say the words, Anthony was stepping forward and throwing his arms around Loki.

Loki sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes flying wide even as he instantly wrapped his arms around Anthony’s waist, keeping him close. Anthony just squeezed him tighter, his arms warm around Loki’s neck as he murmured, “Thanks, Loki.”

Shaking his head softly, Loki told him, “I did nothing.”

“No,” Anthony disagreed. “You’ve done a lot. You’ve done anything I could have asked for.” He pulled back slightly, not letting Loki go, but just shifting enough to look at him, their faces close and Anthony’s expression turbulent. “But you’ve also _listened_ to me. You give a damn. You... you drop anything you’re doing just because I’ve asked you to come by. Do you know how many people have ever done that for me? Done it and really _cared_ about me too; not my money, not my tech but _me?_ ”

Loki’s eyes were wide and he felt unsure about what to say - about what Anthony _wanted_ to hear; devotion, protection and reverence, it all really meant one thing, one reason why Loki would come after hearing him call, why he _did_ care about Anthony and why he would listen to him at any time, day or night.

Love; it all came down to love.

And Anthony seemed to know, but he wasn’t recoiling or flinching away, he was smiling. Loki felt Anthony’s arms move from around his neck so that his hands could slide up and cup Loki’s cheeks. He lightly pulled him down and Loki came without resistance, his eyes falling closed as Anthony brought their mouths together.

It was a tender kiss and Loki tightened his hold on Anthony automatically, pulling him even closer and feeling Anthony grin against his mouth. 

Anthony broke their kiss to whisper, “I’m not going anywhere, Loki.” He chuckled, fingers stroking Loki’s cheeks. “And neither are you, not if you don’t want to.” He kissed Loki again, deeper and with a tease of tongue to make Loki groan and try to trail after him. Anthony stopped him, but with a gentle touch. “I’d like you to stay the night, actually.”

Loki’s gaze snapped to Anthony’s, holding brown eyes that didn’t show anything but affection, desire and anticipation.

 _I want to share my bed with you and my morning too._ Loki’s eyes widened. It was a prayer, and Anthony held his gaze the entire time, his thumb stroking Loki’s cheek. _I want to see how this disciple thing works._ Anthony smirked. _When **I’m** worshiping **you**._

Loki groaned, he also kissed Anthony unable to stop himself at hearing those words, at being offered something so _coveted_.

“You’re sure?” Loki still asked, pulling back to hold Anthony gaze and insist. “I am a being of selfishness and possession. I don’t let go of what I want without a fight.” He stroked a hand down Anthony’s back. “You are what I want, and my devotion can be a fierce and dangerous thing.”

“So far it’s only been a comforting and amazing thing,” Anthony told him with a grin. “So far, it’s only been something I want more of in my life. It’s only been something I want to offer _back_. And kind of already have. Do you think I let just anyone in my lab? Do you think just _anyone_ helps me get back to sleep after a nightmare?” He kissed Loki briefly but no less tenderly. “Do you realise how much I already want you too?”

It was all it took for Loki to kiss him. His hands came up to Anthony's cheeks and he devoured the other man’s mouth. He kissed him with passion and need as he backed the mortal against the nearest bench, feeling Anthony’s arms come to wrap around him, holding them close and enthusiastically responding to his touch and his kiss.

“My Anthony,” Loki breathed against his mouth.

Anthony just gave him a cheeky smile and whispered right back, “My God.”

**Author's Note:**

> Annnnnd that's all she wrote! I hope you enjoyed :)
> 
>  **EDIT:** This work has been translated into Russian and can be found [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/8391295) on ficbook :)


End file.
